A Trash Novel
by maggie5
Summary: Harry's abusive lover, Tom, only manages to keep Harry because he feeds him caviar. How many naughty things can Tom come up with over Christmas holiday, and what do they have to say about Sirius' pay raise? (Slash: H/Riddle, HP/SB)
1. Chapter 1

            **_Disclaimer:_**  J.K. Rowling, the WB, Scholastic, own Harry Potter.  Richard O'Brien, whoever else owns **_The Rocky Horror Picture Show._**  Ashman, Menken, whoever else owns **_Little Shop of Horrors._**  2 extraordinarily fine musicals, if you're into that sort of thing.  

            **_Thanks:_**  Pleiades, Mizery, and that fellow who says he's dating Draco, though none of them'll see this.  And everyone else I forced to listen in Ims.  

            **_Feedback:_**  YES!  Greatly appreciated!  Questions?  Comments?  Updates?  Licensing agreements?  Merchandise offers?  Beta offers?  Want to archive? Care to talk?  Email magentamuppet@yahoo.com, or leave a review!    

            **_Archived:_**  Fanfiction.net, Squickcentral (http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/squickcentral), exclusive home of SHIL (Sirius and Harry in Love), _Dichotomy of Desire _by Pleiades, and all the Sirius/Harry vignettes Mizzy pulled off the ff.n server!  Skip on over!  (Possibly Riddikulus, if I ever have time.)  

***

The bell overhead jingled as Harry walked into Mr. Mushnik's store, AKA his place of employment.

Sirius looked up hopefully, but didn't find a customer.  "Oh, hey Harry…"  He paused, taking in the discoloration below his eyes.  "Eye makeup?  I thought you'd gotten over the transvestite stage…"

"I'm NOT a transvestite," he said, scowling, as he removed his leather jacket and threw it behind the cash register.  

Sirius covertly peeked at the contours of his ass (highlighted by very tight leather trousers).  "Harry, how can you afford leather and not a flat?"

"Bad prioritising, I guess."  In reality, it was because his gay lover, Tom (a tall, thin, man with a very big you-know-what, but a rather unhealthy pallor about him), had a thing for leather, manacles, whips, and women's undergarments, particularly brightly coloured ones, and he allowed Harry to live in his posh Muggle flat and feed him lovely foods (caviar especially, and Harry did like caviar) if he agreed to spend his meagre paycheck on such extraneous commodities.  And Tom had the most innovative ways of having sex!  Why, just last night, Tom had displayed remarkable holiday spirit by filling his clawed bathtub with eggnog and making love to him in that!  (It was rather sticky, in more ways than one, and Harry didn't particularly care for eggnog, but Tom had certainly enjoyed it.  Tom liked eggnog, but he liked mixing it with Old Janx Spirit even more.  And Harry didn't like arguing with Tom, even when he was sober.  He had nearly drowned Harry when he had mentioned that the bathtub was just a tad uncomfortable.)  So _maybe _it was a little inconsiderate of him to do that.  But surely, Tom loved him, deep down, otherwise he wouldn't spend all that money on caviar…and the wine to go with it!  Oh, such taste Tom had!  Eggnog baths…and the wine was always the right type…!  How he loved Tom.  And his caviar.  

Tom had even invited him to his vacation home for Christmas!  He didn't know where it was, but it was sure to have plenty of caviar…and sex…certainly, sex.  He didn't always like sex with Tom, as it was sometimes painful (Tom liked pure silver handcuffs, moreover, when there were two pairs, one end of each pair around Harry's wrists, and the other end to a bedpost, and he liked brightly coloured women's undergarments as well, insisting that Harry wear pink leopard-spotted thong underwear and neon green Wonderbras…but…but…but…there was caviar! 

The Wonderbras came in handy with Mr. Mushnik, too, as he frequently had to perform striptease for that big meat-eating plant in the basement.  It liked women's undergarments, as well.   

"That's not eye makeup, is it," said Sirius, breaking his reverie.  

He didn't answer, but merely drew on a pair of dragonhide gloves and began to 

Sirius wanted to kill Tom.  (He didn't actually know who Tom was, but that was all right, he wanted to kill whoever had done this, this being the hitting, to Harry, and it didn't matter if he knew who he was or not, he just wanted to kill him.)  He figured it (it being the culprit, that is, the person guilty of beating up Harry, if a person was capable of such atrocities!) must be the guy on the motorcycle that picked up Harry every day that was beating him up like this!  Harry always came in with bruises and cuts, sometimes blaming the plants, or his clumsiness, but, more often, not saying anything at all when questioned.  The guy on the motorcycle didn't look any better than he did in leather!  (Could this be vanity?  Never.  Looking down at his groin, he grinned.  No one could resist the great Sirius Black.  Especially not in leather.  He flexed his six-pack abs to reassure himself of his beauty, and grinned in satisfaction.)   He did like Harry, and he knew Harry was gay, and he knew everyone he knew was gay, otherwise they wouldn't've been in this story.  That, and Harry was dating the man on the motorcycle.  _I'm going to ask him, I'm going to ask him, now!  _He had been trying to get the nerve up to request that Harry come over for dinner on Christmas Eve for some time now, and hopefully get some sex out of him.  (Of course, Harry was clever, and would know that an invitation for dinner as a rule meant _'Will you have sex with me?'  _But instead – 

"Why do you stay with him, Harry?" 

"He makes good money."  

"That's all?"

"He loves me!"

"Not if he does this to you…"

"He feeds me caviar!" he said indignantly.  "And I do like my caviar."

"I know you do," said the man in question, swinging open the door to the shop.  "And you'd pick it over puntang pie _(God, I'm crude) _ too, wouldn't you?"

"Tom!" said Harry, surprised.  

"I do hope that's not the only reason you're keeping me."

"Of…of course not, sir."  

"You must be Tom!" said Sirius, scowling.   This man was downright ugly!  What did Harry see in him?  Ah…perhaps he had a big…ah. Yes, that might explain it.  

"Ready to go, darling?"

"But…I thought…Christmas…"

"We're getting an early start," he announced.  "All the more time to shag before you're due back at work."

"But surely…Mr. Mushnik would never allow—"

"No, he wouldn't," agreed Sirius.  He didn't want to see Harry go so soon…he had been about to ask him to have dinner over sex (or was it sex over dinner?) with him!  

"Damn right I wouldn't!" screamed Mushnik (his name being Vernon Dursley, but translated into Serbo-Croatian because it had a nicer ring than Vernon Dursley).   

It was a very good thing Tom was excellent at casting the Cruciatus curse, otherwise he might have been fed to the man-eating plant.  "I trust you've no objections?"

Mushnik writhed.

"Oh, good.  Let's go, Harry!"  He swung Harry over his shoulder and handcuffed him ceremoniously to his Harley Davidson.  

_NO!  He's not getting away that easily!  I'll have sex with him, by God, I will!  _Sirius jumped on his black Triumph and followed them stealthily, although, in reality, it wasn't stealthily, because the lovely purring of the motor which had so attracted him to the bike in the first place was enough to make Tom turn around and curse.  (Harry, of course, couldn't turn around to look, because he was handcuffed to the motorcycle.)  

No one noticed that the man-eating plant from the basement had dragged itself up the stairs and was hitched on to the back of the Triumph by it's two front er…long thingies, making noises of joy as the road scraped its tentacles and flowerpot.  

Sirius cursed back, and urged his motorcycle to go faster.  He and Tom shouted hexes at each other, and a chase worthy of a James Bond movie quickly took form, but there were no bullets or expensive cars or cases of jewels or pretty girls…just three gay men, two motorcycles…and a very long stretch of seemingly empty road…

Seemingly empty road.  

Seemingly empty, that is.  

Seemingly.  

What?  It was seemingly empty!  

_Wait a second_, thought Sirius, _if it's seemingly empty, then that must mean there's something here!  _He succeeded in giving Tom's cycle a flat tire, and Tom swore very loudly.  

"FUCK YOU!"  He paused.  That didn't sound quite right.  "FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKER!"  No, that was missing something.  "FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCKER!"  There.  That was it.  "FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCKER!" he repeated, partially in case Sirius hadn't heard him over the roaring of the Triumph, and partially because he liked the sound of his own voice.  He fancied his voice very masculine and sexy.    

Harry sat primly on the back of the motorcycle, legs folded neatly underneath him in the manner of Princess Jasmine, looking confused.  He thought that because he couldn't see behind him, he couldn't hear it either.  So he hadn't.  And now he was confused because he didn't know why his darling Tom was swearing.  Could it be at him?    

Tom lifted him off the motorcycle, swung him over his shoulder, and began running.  Harry bounced up and down as his carrier ran.  Looking back, he wondered what the other motorcycle was doing there, and what Sirius was doing running after them.  

"Fuck, it's dark!" roared Tom, as the stage lights conveniently dimmed to allow him to do so.  He stumbled blindly, as did Sirius…and the plant behind him.

Harry bounced.  

***

Did you like it?  This was a stupid little fic I started over Christmas because I didn't think Squickcentral'd (the Sirius/Harry Yahoo!Group) have many holiday submissions (I was right, unfortunately).  I didn't finish in time (and it's still in progress), and wasn't planning to post it until it was again topical, but the Thought Police like to go through my files…*shudder* so I had to get rid of any evidence that I was perusing/creating inappropriate fics.  They seem to hold MSN's view on slash.  Goddamn it.  Needless to say, updates may be few and far between…but it'll be finished by year's end, if there's interest.  So show some, why don't you?  The review button isn't that far away…I'd really appreciate it.  (Positive feedback is a  good thing right now…I just got progress reports, and I have 2 A's at present…and they were in Phys. Ed. and Band, people…a fucking D in English…absolutely pathetic.  Makes me wish I'd worked, almost.)  


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter liked caviar. He liked caviar very much. He loved it, in fact. Adored it, even. He had such a fixation for it, actually, that he found the thought of it infinitely more appealing than the constant posse of potential lovers and suitors that was forever queuing up behind him.  
  
This was why he liked Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle was ugly, his assets diminished, if not completely lacking, and, at very least, uninspiring. He had several quirks, among them his dominatrix, sex offender tendencies. But Harry was prepared to overlook these, because Tom Riddle made more money than Harry did, and he thought Harry's ass was very tight. Because he thought Harry's ass was tight, he thought Harry was a good shag. (Which he was. Sirius also thought that Harry was a good shag, but he'd never had him, so he couldn't be sure. Harry didn't know that Sirius thought he was, or would be, a good shag, but he would soon find out.) Because Tom thought Harry was a good shag, he was rather drawn to him. The fact that Harry was by nature timid, submissive, and undemanding (should there be a supply of caviar on hand) made this all the better, for Tom. Tom liked Harry very much, indeed. Harry didn't particularly like Tom, but he liked his paycheck, and the caviar it could buy.  
  
And there was sure to be plenty of caviar at Tom's vacation getaway. Harry hoped Tom's vacation getaway would be someplace sunny, like Florida. But Florida was filled with old people who wanted to retire in Florida because it was warm and sunny and had golf courses. Truth be told, some of them were rather sinister-looking. A bit like Tom, really. Harry couldn't imagine *those* couples had even mildly fulfilling sex. The men looked worse than Tom, because they all walked with canes along the beach with flabby stomachs and….yuck. Even worse were the old men in Speedos. Old men in Speedos. Bleargh. On second thought, Harry didn't hope Tom's vacation getaway would be in Florida, so he wouldn't have to look at flabby old men on the beach and think about what they did at night and whether they were Erective Deficient and on Viagra, like Bob Dole.  
  
Perhaps Tom's vacation getaway could be in California. But no. People were *weird* in California. They lived in Las Vegas in the desert and yet somehow didn't want the government regulating their water supply. They completely overlooked the fact that they would drink all the water if the government didn't and end up dead in the desert of thirst and heat exhaustion if they didn't stop whining about their constitutional rights. Of course, it would've served them right if they had wound up dead in the desert of thirst and heat exhaustion. Harry was quite sure that some people would laugh if they did. Yes, people were weird in California. If they were old they were almost certainly on Viagra, or one of those all- natural, non-prescriptive alternatives that LiveRite is forever crowding people's inboxes with. People in California were weird, they liked that sort of 'natural' stuff. This was why they ate tofu bacon. Harry just couldn't figure out tofu bacon. You either ate bacon or you didn't. It sounded quite disgusting, really. But some people thought caviar was disgusting, the uncultured swine.  
  
The people in California refused to drink iced tea without something weird, like mango slices, in it. Harry didn't like mangoes, but no one in California cared. They claimed it was 'just a little mango', while making little 'huh' noises of disgust with their hands on their hips, and refused to give Harry and the other people who didn't like mangos but liked iced tea iced tea without the 'little mango'. But Harry didn't really care about iced tea. He cared about caviar. Which was why he was over Tom's shoulder, being run through a field that was *definitely* not warm and sunny, but decidedly cold and barren, looking at Sirius, who was in hot pursuit, and wondering why the plant that he and Sirius so frequently performed striptease for under Mushnik's watchful eye was pursuing Sirius.  
  
Looking at Sirius, his well-defined abdominal muscles, and his groin, all highlighted by his tight (if lower-class) attire, Harry decided that anyone who wasn't in pursuit of Sirius was probably mad, straight, or attached to ugly old men with big paychecks who fed them caviar. He wondered if Sirius was after Tom to get caviar too, then panicked, because Sirius was better looking than him by far, and if he put his mind to it he could certainly have the caviar (and the sex that came with it) in Harry's stead). But no- one must have his caviar! He had to kill the competition, even if it meant more work for him in Mushnik's shop otherwise! (Maybe doing more work in Mushnik's shop, and doing it well, would get him a pay raise, but he doubted it very much. No, the only way to get a pay raise from Mushnik was to have sex with him, or so the hot gay men who had held Harry's position before Harry said.)  
  
He began to struggle so that he could break away from Tom and go back to try in vain to beat the crap out of Sirius so that he could simultaneously impress Tom and dissuade Sirius from the caviar prize. Little did he know that *he* was Sirius' intended prize. And so he struggled.  
  
Tom landed a solid slap on Harry's firm, curvaceous, and leather-clad rump. "Shut up or you don't get any sex tonight!"  
  
No sex meant no caviar, and Harry did like his caviar. He stopped struggling and allowed himself to be shuttled across the field. He wished he had a flower to play with. He could pretend he was a Princess and pull off the petals one by one while saying 'Tom loves me, Tom loves me not' and be comforted when the last one was a 'Tom loves me' so that he could be assured of caviar for the rest of his life.  
  
***  
  
1 Meanwhile, in Mushnik's shop…  
  
***  
  
Mr Mushnik had just rid himself of the immediate after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse. (He had rid himself of the 'immediate' effects because the 'delayed' effects included cardiac arrest and chronic heart failure, especially for fat, middle-aged, purple faced gay men like Mr. Mushnik, and even more especially for Mr. Mushnik because Rali had promised Magenta a smutty fic if she killed Mushnik off, and Magenta needed a veritable excuse for doing so).  
  
Having just rid himself of the after-effects, he stood up and leaned heavily on the counter, willing his legs to stop shaking (which meant that he had not entirely ridded himself of the after-effects, after all). He thought back to what had just happened…  
  
He had been trying to stop Harry, that little ingrate, from leaving early for holiday. He hadn't really cared, as Harry often botched his work in the shop and he had Sirius to look at most of the time, but Harry had been wearing the tightest leather pants Mushnik had ever seen. Truth be told, Mushnik was really rather irked that Harry was going anywhere for holiday at all, and even more so that his (rather hideous) lover had carried him off, while casting that very painful curse on Mushnik. Mr. Mushnik had been planning to lock Harry in the basement after work the day before the holiday, with the intention using him to 'relieve tension'. It would have been quite good for the both of them, really. Perhaps it would instil in Harry the respect that had been so lacking of late, towards his employer. Perhaps it would only make the boy resent him more. But Mushnik would have relieved his tensions, and have been very pleasured in doing so, very pleasured indeed.  
  
But that was out of the question, now. Mushnik wasn't an entirely stupid man. He didn't care to fight this 'Tom' character for Harry, especially not when 'Tom' could cast a Cruciatus Curse so likely to cause heart failure for middle-aged gay men. After all, he was quite taken with Sirius. And, speaking of Sirius….  
  
He was no-where to be found! Mushnik gasped. Could Sirius have left, too? But…who would keep him occupied during the holiday?  
  
Fortunately, Mr. Mushnik, not being an entirely stupid man, had placed a certain tracking device in all his employees. He claimed that this was so he could monitor their lunch breaks and make sure they didn't cheat him, but in reality, it was so that he was guaranteed accurate locations of potential shags at all times. The locations of all his employees (which currently numbered two, as all his former ones had had their devices surgically removed after receiving their pay raises post- gratuitous sex) were revealed on a screen in his flashy red Mercedes SLK, a very sexy car which looked much better than its un-sexy driver. He really ought to stop giving pay raises every time he and an employee had sex. Otherwise the employees would remove their tracking devices surgically so as not to be approached for gratuitous sex again. But Mushnik, although not an entirely stupid man, was not entirely bright, either. He'd yet to figure this dilemma out. He assumed that the tracking devices just fizzled out after an employee quit his service, although this had always puzzled him, because machines weren't supposed to know what their surroundings were, unless they were one of those hideous and overpriced (if technologically advanced) Segway things.  
  
And so, Mushnik shakily made his way to his sexy red Mercedes. Climbing shakily in, he shakily removed his keys from his pocket and shakily placed his car keys into the ignition, turning it shakily. Then, having shakily set a world record for using shakily the most times in a quasi-coherent statement, he glanced at his tracking device. What he saw were two rapidly moving dots, navigating across what he knew to be a cold, barren, and empty field. Why Harry and Sirius were in that field, he had no idea, but Sirius' motorcycle was gone, he noted, having glanced at his parking space, which was normally occupied by that wonderful Triumph. But, unless he was imagining it, Sirius' dot was certainly chasing Harry's.  
  
Well! Either Harry had forgotten something, or Sirius was giving the boy his attentions! The latter was simply inexcusable! It was in Sirius' job description to fancy his employer, for fuck's sake! Mushnik would have to set him straight. He was quite angry at even the prospect that Sirius could fancy someone else. After all, he had a sexy car! Cars were an aphrodisiac, weren't they? Or was that chestnut oil? He sniffed. He had been told by the hag at Knockturn Alley that this fragrance was 'in'. It was the most seasonable blend of curdled milk, brine, pig's blood, and dead fish he had been able to find. But surely this couldn't be a turnoff. After all, she had said that women would swoon so wholeheartedly that they would faint. Perhaps this was the problem. He was gay. He had bought a perfume to appeal to women instead of men. Or perhaps hags had a different perception of what was 'in'. Yes, he decided, it must be one of these. The kindly old hag would surely not have cheated him on his fragrance purchase. She would have sought to reward him for his patronage! (He didn't realise how very silly this assumption was, as he had 'rewarded' his patrons on many an occasion with a 'special' plant, usually one that had fangs or venom-coated tentacles. The patrons were always exceptionally pleased, until they discovered these features. Upon their protests and attempted return of the 'reward', they were brushed off, being told that the fangs or venomous tentacles were what made the plant 'special'. After all, who wanted a boring orchid when they could have a sprout for a man- eating plant instead? Surely the latter would more easily impress upon visitors the usefulness of a wide knowledge of horticulture, or, better yet, steal their wallets.) Or perhaps the problem was that it was her job to sell as much perfume as she could, whether it was a seductive make or not. Of course, this couldn't be the problem, as she had been genuinely concerned as Mushnik had unburdened the gruesome details of his love life on the kindly woman as he had been shopping. They had bonded, and she wanted what was best for him! So Mushnik's perfume *must* be sexy – even if it didn't smell of chestnut oil.  
  
And his Mercedes *had* to be an aphrodisiac. After all, it was nearly as sexy as he was! And it was red and shiny and the automotive salesman had assured him that it was a chick magnet. Of course, he had been straight. Mushik sighed. All of these things had been sold to him by straight people. What was wrong with them? They hadn't helped him hook Harry. Or Sirius. Evidently, Harry had hooked Sirius, or Sirius wouldn't be chasing him across that barren field.  
  
Well. If Sirius was chasing Harry, Mushnik could certainly chase Sirius. Shakily, he pressed down the accelerator and sped off towards the barren field to find the two men he wanted to have sex with and get it out of at least one of them.  
  
And if he couldn't get it?  
  
Well, then he'd just have to think of something when he got there. 


End file.
